


Dangerous Game

by QueenofAssLouis



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1d, Boyfriends, BoyxBoy, Drug Cartel, Drugs, Gang, Gang Leader Harry, M/M, Student Louis, Sweet Louis, T!H, Top!Harry, UNI Louis, Violence, b!l, bottom!Louis, gang boyfriends, larrie, larry - Freeform, mafia 1d, mafia Harry, mafia boyfriends, one direction - Freeform, stylinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofAssLouis/pseuds/QueenofAssLouis
Summary: "It's a dangerous game." Harry says, face set in a deep frown.Louis takes a step closer, standing toe-to-toe with the mafia leader. He leans up toward Harry, the two so close that Louis can hear Harry's sharp intake of air.He cocks his head back and smiles, "Then you better teach me how to play."____Or where Louis is a college student who lost his family to gang violence and wants to crack the case. He follows a hunch and gets caught in a dangerous game when their leader is someone he knows. Other stuff happens too, I guess.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!  
> The people I chose to play each character do not represent who they are as real people, I just think the way they look fits their character. IT IS SUPERFICIAL ONLY. NOT REFLECTING PERSONALITY OR ACTUAL EVENTS. I feel like it's important to differentiate the actual person from their character *cough* Aft*er *cough*. ok thank you!

PROLOGUE

Louis tosses the last of the dishes into the sink and wipes his hands on the back of his jeans. He always appreciated the shifts as a busboy; there were no customers to deal with, no misbehaving children, and (most importantly) NO DRESS CODE.

Unfortunately, he was only covering for Bebe today. Come tomorrow, Louis would be back to distasteful red pinstripe aprons and button-up shirts.

Ah, the pleasures of working in a 50’s themed diner.

On one of his anti-dress code rants to Bebe, Louis wonders how much more cliche one could get after naming the diner “Big Al’s” _and_ having it be themed in the 50’s. “What episode of Riverdale is this?” Louis would ask her and then Bebe would give a very well practiced speech about how Riverdale is a “chilling yet drama-filled navigation of crime, romance, and action. So don’t you dare come for Pop’s Chock’lit shoppe like that...”, then adding, “But season one is the best out of all of them.”

Louis lets a small smile grace his lips as he remembers those conversations fondly. Bebe is one of Louis’ only friends… and one of the only people in his life.

After his mother died right before Louis went off to University, Louis cut all ties with his old life; moving away from his small town and deleting his schoolmates from his phone. He knew that if he stayed, he would be the one they all pitied. _See that kid? His mum died last year, poor lad can’t even go to his family ‘cause they disowned him after he came out of the closet. Poor boy. Poor lonely boy._

But Louis doesn’t regret his decision. If he hadn’t moved out of that town, he would’ve never known his true potential-- what he’s capable of.

When he moved away Louis was going from job to job trying to pay for University. It was the second hardest part of his life; Working _at least_ two jobs, taking any shifts that people couldn’t cover and working his hands to the bone. Some nights Louis would come home and collapse on the floor from exhaustion. And in the darkest nights, something in the deepest part of Louis’ mind would come out, telling him how easy it would be to just stop, _what was it all for? Is it really worth it? Worth this pain?_

Those were the worst nights. He doubted every move he had made, every choice and failure would cross his mind and Louis felt like he had nothing--was nothing.

And then, in the thick of it all, his mum would appear. Jay would pet his hair and dry his eye, _“Oh my sweet boy. What’s happened?”_

And Louis would tell her of his recent hardships and his lack and ambition and happiness. She would furrow her brow, as she used to do when contemplating, and say, _“You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose,”_ Louis could hear Jay reciting the words of her favorite childhood book, _“You’re on your own and you know what you know. And you are the one who’ll decide where to go.”_

She would give Louis a kiss on the head-- and in that moment, Lou remembered why he’s there. For his mum. He would graduate for his mum and get himself a good job that he loved and he would work for everything his mum couldn’t give him.

It was for Jay. The light of his life.

Louis took out a bunch of student loans and rented the cheapest, best flat he could (given his  piss poor salary) and now attends University-- working toward his degree and a better life.

Louis met Bebe when Al hired him a few months ago and she’s like a sister to him; constantly letting him know she has his back. Louis always tells her he doesn’t know where he’d be without her.

Probably not washing dishes right now.

Louis finishes up the last of the load and pops into Al’s office.

Big Al is a 50 year old man with slicked grey hair and a permanent frown. He looks like a hardass on the outside, but this tough exterior melts away when he sees Louis’ smile. Big Al has a soft spot for Lou and sees him as his own son, reminding him a lot of himself as a boy.

“Alright, that’s it for me,” Louis says with a wave of his hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night Lou.” Big Al says without looking up from his computer. He’s hunched over his desk, looking through his glasses on the tip of his nose-- probably playing solitaire or some other desktop game, “Make sure you finish that paper tonight!” Al calls out as Louis walks toward the back door.

“Will do!” Lou yells back with a smile. He’s right, Louis does need to finish his English essay tonight or else the best grade he’ll get is a C-. They both know Louis will settle for nothing less than an B+.

Louis pushes through the door and is met with a warm blast of evening air. The sun has gone down, but the pavement still heats the area around it. Louis takes a deep breath, another day done.

He takes a step out into the dark alley. Louis always feels uncomfortable walking out here. It’s a creepy alleyway, only illuminated by an orange light that hangs above the door and no security cameras. Louis has habitually nagged Al about getting some sort of camera in the back. They are in a high-crime rate area, one of the highest in the city. But Big Al keeps saying he’ll look into it and never does.

Louis jogs over to his junker car and jams the key into the door, quickly getting in and locking the doors.

For his 23rd birthday, everyone at the diner pitched in to get him this car. He cried when they gave it to him. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

Before this car, he was either taking the bus or walking-- both a dangerous choice given the area.

He really is lucky to have these people in his life.

When Louis gets to his apartment building, he climbs the three sets of stairs to his flat. It’s nothing special, just a studio apartment that is scarcely decorated. Louis doesn’t have room in his budget for knick knacks and picture frames, but sometimes he likes to imagine which home goods he would buy from Target; Probably gold and white aesthetics, with a lot of house plants (if he could ever keep them alive).

However, right now Louis has to finish a paper-- and that’s exactly what he does until he falls asleep on the carpet, his final English Essay perfectly proofread and ready to turn in

**


	2. Coffee

“I hate dish duty.” Bebe says as Louis walks into the kitchen with another bin of dishes to add to the pile, “I haven’t been able to keep the waitress job for more than a week before being sent back here.” she complains and slaps a sponge onto another plate.

“Well maybe you should study up on customer service.” Louis suggests, setting a stack of dishes into the sink for her, “You could make a list of do’s and dont’s… And put ‘calling a customer an _absolute fucking donut_ while he stands three feet away’ under the ‘don’t’ column.”

Bebe giggles, “Well maybe _he_ needs to review how not...to be...stupid.” she struggles to give a comeback.

Louis nods, holding back a laugh, “How not to be stupid. Yeah, good one.”

“Shut up,” Bebe playfully splashes Louis with water, “Get out of my kitchen, I have dishes to clean, and _you_ have absolute _fucking_ donuts to serve.”

Louis smiles at Bebe, “See ya,” and pokes her in the side, which earns a yelp and another splash of water.

Louis scurries out of the kitchen before he gets completely soaked, a small smile still on his face. Bebe really is his favorite person.

He shares this smile with a family of four as they walk in through the front door, “Hi there. Welcome to Big Al’s. Four today?”

The parents nod as their two kids bounce up and down, the excitement of eating out is too much to bear.

Not many people come in today, which Louis expected. Thursdays are usually pretty quiet--Tuesdays too. Mostly older people come in (friends of Al) and a few college students here and there between classes or to study. Bebe will pop in and out of the kitchen, clearing tables for the sparse customers, and slaping Louis’ arse every other time she passes him-- to which Louis pushes her shoulder and laughs.

As the day winds down, the sun spills into the diner as a golden shower. It’s Louis’ favorite time of day. It makes him feel safe… warm.

“Going on break.” Louis calls out to the other waitresses as he unties the hideous pinstripe apron. Louis can bare the white button-up, black dress pants, and even the stupid little red bowtie. But the distasteful, wretched, horribly cliche, red and white pinstripe apron is something he would quite enjoy to watch burn in a fire.

Louis pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs his bookbag before settling at one of booth on the farthest side of the diner. This was his routine, especially during the school year. Louis would wake up, go to work, study when he could, go to classes, eat something some time in there, sleep, and repeat. The actual execution of his routine always varied, but it was the same actions nonetheless.

Louis places blank flashcards on the edge of the table as he decides which subject he will be focusing on for the next day or two. With finals coming up, Louis wanted to be as prepared as possible. Standardized testing always gave him a hard time, so this time around he would be ready to kick arse and take names.

He decides on science--his least favorite-- and switches his coffee for the flashcards. He begins scribbling down important terms for each section that correspond to the study guide. Whether or not those will actually be on the test is a different story. But Louis is particularly good with his studying habits, so there is no worry for now.

He goes back and forth between multi-colored highlighters and pencil. He scribbles down a 10th term while reaching for the coffee cup with his left hand. Unfortunately, Louis can only be so coordinated, as his mind is focused on studying. So when his left hand bumps the coffee cup, Louis barely processes the events that unfold. He can only watch helplessly as the cup disappears over the edge of the table, about to smash on the floor with a deafening crack.

Except, there was no smash.

Instead of the coffee cup meeting it’s ultimate demise, a beautifully curly headed man snatches the cup mid-air, spilling most of the boiling liquid on his own hands.

“Woah there!” The man exclaims with a half-laugh and half yelp of pain.

“O-oh my god!” Louis jumps out of the booth, grabbing the small napkin that was on the plate the cup once sat on, “I’m so sorry!”

The guy sets the cup back on the table with a chuckle and flicks the coffee of his hands.

“Here,” Louis says quickly, pushing the napkins onto the man's grip, “Hold on, I’ll grab a towel.” He hurriedly jogs back to the kitchen, calling out for Bebe, “Get me a cold rag, please!”

“What happened?” She asks at the sight of Louis’ troubled appearance, as he runs past her to the first aide kit.

“Spilled coffee on hot guy.” Louis says, and that’s all Bebe needs to jump on Louis’ tail as he rushes back to the table.

“Oh la la.” Bebe murmurs as they approach the table. The man has taken a seat right across from Louis’ school work, still holding the soaked napkin against his palms.

“Hey,” Louis greets the guy, “I am so sorry about that. I have a medical kit, I-I don’t know how bad the burns will be and I brought a-- wait. Bebe? The rag?”

Bebe realizes she had been so distracted by the drama of hot coffee, first aide, and hot guys that she had forgotten the cold towel for this hottie’s hand, “Oh right.” Bebe says and runs back to the kitchen.

Louis turns back to the man, “Right, yeah. So she’s going to grab a towel for you. I’m just-- I’m so sorry sir. I feel so bad. I wasn’t even thinking and-”

“No problem at all. I don’t feel it much.” the guy smiles at Louis and some of his guilt momentarily put on hold when he gets a good look at this mans face.

And _goddamn_ is it stunning. His long nose scrunches a bit as he offers Louis a lopsided, dimpled smile. His green eyes are warm in the golden light, shining in from the summer sunset.

“I uh- you-” Louis tried, but was to taken aback by the pure attractiveness of this man.

“Lou!” Bebe called from the kitchen and Louis turned as she threw a damp towel to him.

He caught it with ease and turned back to the guy, “Right, here’s this for the, uh, burn.”

“It’s really not that bad.” the man persists as he takes the cold rag from Louis and replacing the napkin with it. He gives Lou a reassuring smile, to which Lou can only blush and look down at the table. His eyes meet with the first aide kit.

“Ehm, why don’t we get you fix up?” Louis says, opening the kit and taking out an antibiotic ointment and some wraps. The guy slides deeper into his side of the booth, inviting Louis to take a seat next to him.

The guy puts his hands on the table for Louis and Louis involuntarily winces. The skin of his palm is red and puffy, small blisters already forming on the highest points of his hands.

“Oh my god,” Louis whispers, a wave of guilt smashes into him, “I am so sorry.”

“It really doesn’t hurt that much,” the man insists with a reassuring smile.

Louis can’t help but frown, knowing that it was a lie. Louis unscrews the cap of the ointment and squeezes just enough onto his finger. He looks up to the man, “Ready?”

The man just gives a humoured smile and a nod. Louis, as gently as he can manage, picks up the back of the guys hand and softly rubs the cream over the high and low points of his palm. The guys hands are large, they could probably envelope Louis’ with a simple curl of his finger.

“Chemistry, huh?” the guy speaks up, not giving any sign that he was in pain,  “Never really liked it myself.”

“Hmm?” Louis looks up at the man, but his gaze is focused on the opposite side of the table. Louis looks over and spots his unfinished flashcards and open notebooks, “Oh, yeah. Me neither. Physical sciences in general are my least favorite subject. I’m more of a social science guy, myself.”

“Ah, like psychology and sociology and other… ology-ies.” Harry laughs and Louis bashfully smiles, taking more of the ointment and starting on his other hand, trying not to notice the warm blush spreading across his cheeks (or the weird, happy feeling in his tummy).

“Yup. All of the ology-ies.” Louis giggles and grabs for the wraps, carefully winding the fabric around one hand and then the other.

They sit for a second, just sort of smiling at each other.

Once their eye contact gets a little too intense for Louis’ comfort, he clears his throat, “Ehm… I still feel horrible,” Louis says and the guy shrugs,”Have-have you eaten yet? Let me get you something-- on the house.” Louis offers, sliding out of the booth and onto his feet.

“How about a coffee?” the man asks with a mischievous grin and Louis presses his lips together (an attempt to hide his own smile), “And a burger?”

Louis gives him a quick nod, “That I can do.”

Louis runs back to the kitchen and puts in an order for the guy. Noticing there’s still a whisper of a smile on his face. He shakes off the weird euphoric feeling.

Ugh. Too much smiling.

Before he can leave, Bebe attempts to drill him with questions about the “coffee cutie” (as Bebe calls him) but Louis insists he needs to get back to the guy so he doesn’t get upset.

To be honest, Louis was a little more concerned that the guy was going to report him and Louis would get in trouble. It definitely wasn’t because this guy was smoking hot and made him giggly.

So, Louis took a breath and prepared himself to walk back to the table, apologize, pack up his things and get back to work. However, it seems as though everything is doing the opposite of what he decides. Almost like he’s in a fanfiction that wants to create a relationship through quirky and semi-realistic circumstances.

 

Huh.

 

Weird.

 

Louis kneels on his side of the booth, gathering his school supplies, “Alright, well I put your order in, so it should be ready soon.”

“You work here?” the guy asks and Louis nods, shoving his notebooks back into his bag.

“Yeah, I was just trying to get some studying in during my break,” Louis tells him and starts to put the flash cards into one of the pockets on his backpack, “But, uh… that didn’t go too well.”

The guy chuckles and Louis blushes once more, pulling the strap onto his shoulder.

“How much longer do you have on break?” the guy asks and Louis looks at his watch.

“Uhm, like ten minutes.” Louis tells the guy, quickly adding, “But I don’t mind ending it early. I owe you _at leas_ t two more burgers.”

“And a coffee.” the guy says and Louis smiles at him.

“Yeah. And a coffee.” Louis laughs, turning on his heels and heads back to the kitchen. As Louis he walks toward the kitchen doors, he can see Bebe in the little window, giving him a big thumbs up with a big, stupid smile on her face.

She practically yanks him into the kitchen, “So when’s the wedding?” Bebe asks as Louis throws his bag into his cubby.

“What?” Louis laughs.

“uuUHHHM,” Bebe says, as if it’s an obvious answer, “You just had a meet-cute with the hottest _fucking_ guy ever! What do you mean what???”

“Meet-cute? What’s cute about spilling hot coffee on him and then saying I hate Science?”

Bebe purses her lips, trying to suppress a knowing smile, “Well, you seemed awful happy about it…”

Louis rolls his eyes and laughs, “ ‘Cause he’s super attractive and I’ve already made myself into a fool, right in front of him. How can I _not_ laugh at myself?”

“Order up!” one of the cooks calls out.

“Now if you would excuse me,” Louis says, taking the burger from the cooks platform, “I am going to make myself into a bigger fool.”

Louis walks back to the table, getting a good look at the back of the guy. His shoulders were broad and muscular underneath his black t-shirt.

“And here’s this for you.” Louis sets down the plate of food for the guy.

“Why thank you,” he says like a gentleman.

Louis nods and starts to leave, but the guy continues, “So… Louis?” he asks and Louis’ eyebrows falter, his heart skipping a beat, “It’s French, if I’m not mistaken.”

“How did you-” Louis begins when his eyes meet with the horrid red and white stripes of his apron. His silver name tag shines back at him, “Oh Jesus.” Louis curses the stupid uniform.

The guy hands the apron to Louis and he takes it sheepishly, “Thanks.” Louis clears his throat, holding the apron behind his back, “Ehm, yes. It is French… My mother adored French culture.” Louis chuckles, “She wanted me to study in France.”

“Oh? Merveilleux!” the man smiles fondly, “And why didn’t you go to France?”

Louis shrugs, “I don’t have the money-- or know the language.”

“Ah yes, that’s always a tough one.” The man chuckles and Louis smiles, “But you are in Uni, yes? Hopefully not a Chemistry major?”

Louis laughs, “Yes to University, no to chemistry, “ Louis pretends to shiver at the thought of being a Chemist and the man laughs, “I was thinking journalism-- investigative journalism, actually.”

“Oh?” the man perks up, amused and interested.

“I’m very passionate about it.” Louis nods, looking down at the floor, “I think once we can recognize and uncover the layers of injustices that are happening, even in our own city, we can initiate change. And I want to be a part of that change.”

Louis peeks up and meets gaze with the man who is grinning warmly at Louis.

“That’s really amazing.” He says.

“Thank you… Ehm, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Harry.” he says, holding out his bandage hand to shake Louis’, “Harry Styles.”

“Nice to meet you,” Louis says, gently shaking his hand, “Harry.”

Louis smiles and takes a step back, not wanting to impose on any more of Harry’s time. But Harry feels differently.

“With such a strong person like you, I’m sure your girlfriend must be a force to reckon with.” Harry says confidently, taking a bite of his burger. Louis takes a step toward the table, laughing awkwardly.

“Ehm, I don’t have time for a _boyfriend._ ” Louis says, playing with the fabric of his apron, “Education and work are my number one, so I suppose there’s no hope for me.”

“Ah,” the man nods as another smile crosses his faces, “Well don’t lose faith, Il n'y a que les montagnes qui ne se rencontrent jamais.”

“Hmm?” Louis asks, vaguely catching a French accent.

“It’s French, a proverb: ‘there are only mountains that never meet.’” Harry says and smiles fondly at Louis as Louis processes the phrase.

“There are none so distant that fate cannot bring together.” Harry answers for him.

Louis laugh lightly-- bashfully, “That’s beautiful.”

Harry gives Louis a nod, still smiling warmly at the boy.

“Louis!” Big Al yells from the window of the kitchen, making Louis turn, “Break’s over!”

Louis sighs, turning back to Harry, “Alright, well… au revoir.”

“Goodbye, Louis.” Harry bids, wanting nothing more than to take Louis to the nearest park and talk to him for hours, really get to know Louis. He seems like such a sweet person.

As Harry watches the beautiful boy walk back to the hosting station, he feels smitten. From then on, he starts showing up to the diner every Thursday, around 5pm. The two always get in trouble for talking too long, which always makes Louis roll his eyes and leave Harry with an “Au revoir” and a breath-taking smile. At the time Harry would come, the golden sun would hit the diner and make Louis look especially stunning; it made Harry want to pull him in and never let go.

 

\---

 

“Always smiling, Mr. Styles”, Louis says, placing a cup of coffee in front of Harry.

“There’s plenty of things to be happy about.” Harry says, slowly taking a sip.

“Oh yeah? Like coffee burns and a bad burger?”

“Like cute guys and free food.”

 

\---

 

“You’re too charming for your own good.” Louis says as he sits down for the third time, knowing he’ll get yelled at again if he gets caught.

“What can I say,” Harry says with an endearing smile, “I have a soft spot for you.”

“And burn spots.” Louis giggles, taking Harry’s hand into his own, “They’re healing nicely though.” Louis says as he examines the reddened skin.

Harry watches Louis inspect his hand, his heart filling with copious amounts of infatuation, “Well I have a fantastic doctor looking after me.”

Louis looks up through his lashes, smiling at Harry. Harry could feel his heart pound in his chest.

 

\---

 

“You have kids?” Louis asks, catching a glimpse of Harry’s text messages. The sender had started the text with _DADDY. There was only 3 packages, not 5._

Harry chuckles, turning off the screen when he realizes the message was still up, “No, just a stupid nickname my friends gave me.”

\---

 

“He _totally_ has a thing for you.” Bebe says, bumping Louis’ hip.

Louis giggles, looking over to Harry from the host station, “Does not.”

Harry looks up, locking eyes with Louis and a grin spreads across his face.

“Ugh, I’m gonna puke.” Bebe rolls her eyes.

 

\---

 

“Still smiling, Mr. Styles?” Louis asks, setting his hands on his hips.

“Seulement pour toi.” Harry says with a wink.

_Only for you._

 

 


	3. Strange

“How are we today?” Louis asks, walking up to Harry’s usual table, trying to calm the stupid butterflies in his stomach.

Harry looks up from his phone, his frown turning into a faint smile, “Could be better.” he says, turning over his phone on the table, “And how are you?”

Louis pretends to think hard about it, “Mmm, I’m feeling good. I have finals in a few weeks and I’m feelin’ pretty good about it.”

This makes Harry smile, “I’m happy to hear that. And how’s Bebe?”

“She’s probably listening to every word you’re saying,” Louis giggles, turning to the kitchen to see if he can catch Bebe watching them again. When he sees no sign of her, he turns back to Harry, “But she’s good too.”

Harry nods, seemingly genuinely happy to hear about Louis.

“What can I get you today?” Louis asks, pulling his writing pad and pen.

“I think just a coffee today,” Harry says, picking up his buzzing phone, “long night ahead of me.”

Louis nods, even though Harry is typing on his phone. He makes a fresh pot for Harry, suspiciously eyeing the handsome man from behind the counter.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bebe takes Louis out of his reverie. She puts down a bin of dishes and leans against the counter.

“Mmm… yeah” Louis says, pouring the coffee into the cup, “Has Harry ever told me what he does for a living?”

Bebe takes a minute to think. Her being Louis’ best friend, she knows everything Louis does about Harry-- in fact, about any potential significant other. And let me say, there is a lot of potential here.

“I think sales and marketing?” Bebe purses her lips, trying to remember.

“Hm,” Louis sets a spoon on the saucer, “Poor guy. His phone is ringing like crazy. He said it was going to be a long night.”

“Well more hot babe time for you” Bebe says with a wink. Louis laughs, taking the coffee to Harry’s table. 

As Louis approaches the table, he can’t help but notice the deep set frown in Harry’s face. His eyebrows are pulled down and he’s listening intently, obviously unhappy with whatever the other line has to say.

“I understand your concern,” Harry says cooly, making Louis slow his steps, “But if you  _ ever _ disrespect me like that again-- you’re done.”

Louis clears his throat, giving a Harry to compose himself as Louis approaches. Harry hangs up the phone without a goodbye and cracks his neck.

Louis sets down the coffee for him and Harry smiles, “Thank you.”

“Of course, let m-” Louis starts, but is interrupted by Harry’s phone ringing again, to which Harry rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I’ll just-” Louis tries to excuse himself, but Harry tugs his arm.

“No, stay.” Harry insists, “I wanna hear about your history test. It’ll be a second.” He picks up the phone and Louis awkwardly shift his weight from foot to foot.

“Yeah?” Harry answers the phone. Louis can’t help but notice the unusual greeting to his colleague. He also notes Harry’s face immediately turning to a frown again.

“What do you mean? Where?” Harry asks the person on the other line. His voice sounds urgent, but he quickly changes his tune with a side glance to Louis.

“You know what? We’ll talk about this… new development when I get there.” Harry says, offering a grin to Louis, “Yeah. Bye.”

Harry hangs up the phone, sighing deeply-- almost dramatically, “That was the office.”

“Is everything okay?” Louis asks.

“Yeah-- well, they need me down there to resolve some issues.” he says with an apologetic smile and pulls out a few dollars to set on the table.

“Aw,” Louis feels a little disappointed their time was cut short, “I hope you figure it out.”

Harry stands, only a few inches away from Louis. The mood changes immediately, the two now toe-to-toe with each other. Louis looks up to the handsome man, seeing a sad and concerned expression-- but before Louis can fully register the look, Harry says softly, “I will.”

His statement should have been light hearted and cheeky, but it felt...different. The way he said it was more like a promise. The way he said it took the air out of Louis’ lungs.

And for a moment they stand, so close Louis could reach up and touch his face, even kiss him, with one move; This the first time they’ve been this close since Louis had bandaged his hand. Harry’s face seems so serious.

“Au revoir.” Louis manages, only feeling right to come out as a whisper.

Harry’s serious look is melted into a smile, “ Jusqu'à la prochaine fois.”

Louis giggles, not at all fluent in French. Harry chuckles too, completely infatuated with the boy, “Until next time.”

Harry steps away, Louis almost falling toward him-- as if there’s some invisible rope attached to the two of them.

He watches Harry leave, feeling that something wasn’t quite right. This goodbye was different than the other, not just in their proximity, but in the words.

The following Thursday, Harry doesn’t show up. Louis can’t help but feel a little disappointed he didn’t get more time with Harry the last time he was here. But there’s always next week.

He starts to lose hope the third time Harry doesn’t show up. Truth be told, Louis sort of misses the curly headed charmer. He made Louis a giggly, gooey mess-- and Louis loved it. Even Bebe notices Louis’ discourage spirit, although he hides it well. Louis still smiles warmly at the customers and laughs with them, but ever so often, he’ll glance at the door in hopes that Harry will walk in with his famously handsome smile and ask for a coffee.

He’s still a little disheartened by the fact that Harry didn’t  _ really _ make a move toward Louis; not asking for a number, or to grab lunch somewhere other than the diner. He really did think there was something there. But… It Is What It Is.

Life goes on.

Summer descends upon the city in full force. Louis has a hard time focusing on his studies because of the intense heat wave. It definitely doesn’t help that his apartments air conditioning stopped working. But Louis drives away from his last final test of his junior year of college feeling happy.

One more year to go before getting to focus on what he really wants to do. One more year until he can jump into the field and help people like him, victims of violence in the city. Louis feels a little teary eyed, feeling so excited and satisfied with who is becoming. It’s a wonderful feeling.

As he pulls up to Al’s diner, Louis’ elated attitude is quickly replaced with one of uncomfortable curiosity.

Two guys, maybe a little older than Louis, stand outside of their parked car in the furthest point of the small parking lot. The blonde one leans against the passenger door, both arms crossed on the roof, the other has black hair, smoking a cigarette. Neither of them talk, but both stare as Louis drives past, pulling around the back and out of sight.

Louis can’t help but frown.  _ Strange _ .

 

***

 

Louis looks at the little digital clock on the hosting station, sighing. 

_ 5:00PM _

It’s slow in the diner, as it always is on Thursdays. With school being on break for the summer, Louis has been picking up a few more hours at the diner-- much to Bebe’s dismay. She thinks Louis should be out partying with her and her other friends. But, truth be told, Louis can’t help but feel out of place with Bebe’s other girlfriends. They all kind of fawn over him, obsessed with the fact that he’s gay. They act like it’s an episode of Rupaul's Drag Race with everything he does _ : “Oh gurl!” “Yaaas Gaga!”  “Werk! Werk! Werk!” “Oh my god, the shaaade!!” “Werk mama!” _

Louis rolls his eyes, chuckling. While it is amusing, he could only endure it for a short while. 

Suddenly, the door whips open, pulling Louis from his thoughts. For a second Louis thinks it could be Harry: 5pm, Thursday, Louis is here… it make sense. 

But when Louis looks up, it heart sinks a little. It’s the two suspicious guys that were standing outside. The blonde one leads, a weirdly cocky and intimidating confidence in his step. The dark haired one trails close behind, more discrete and mysterious.

The blonde gives Louis an arrogant smile, nothing like Harry’s sweet and inviting smiles.

“Hi darling. A table for two alright?” his Irish accent shocks Louis a little.

“Ehm, yeah,” Louis says, “Pick a spot and I’ll get you started.”

Louis goes back into the kitchen, pouring the two glasses of water, tucking menus under his arm. When he walks out to the dining room, the men have chosen to sit in the same booth that Harry usually sits in, which makes Louis frown slightly.

“Here’s this for you guys,” Louis says as he puts down the water and menus, “My name is Louis and I’ll be your server today. What can I get started for you?”

“You know..” the blonde one says, carelessly flipping through the menu, “I would love to know your opinion, as a waiter…”

Louis lowers his pen and notepad, “Sure...I suppose I prefer the burger, but the coffee is pretty good with a--”

The black haired one snickers and the blonde kicks him underneath the table, “No, no. I meant your opinion on…” he gestures to the dining room, “this place.  _ Big Al’s Diner _ .”

Louis is taken aback for a second, “Oh, ehm. It- it’s great. I really enjoy working here.”

The man grins, but Louis doesn’t feel right, “And the clientele? They seem happy? You have regulars coming in?”

Louis shrugs, “Ehm, yeah I guess so. They seem to enjoy the food and we do have people come back-- I mean, there was one regular for a while,” Harry flashes through Louis’ mind, “but he stopped showing. So maybe not everyone enjoys the food or… whatever.”

The two look to each other, agreeing on something silently. The look makes Louis feel uncomfortable, like he’s done something wrong by sharing that bit of information.

“Why all the questions?” Louis asks with a frown.

The blonde’s eyes linger one the other for a second too long before looking back up to Louis, “We’re potential buyers,” he says with a smile, “Wanted to check out the place for ourselves.”

“Big Al is selling the diner?”

Before the blonde can speak, the other speaks up, “You know what? I would love to a bit of tea about now, yeah?”

The blonde looks over, almost grimacing, “Uh, yeah. Right. See what you guys got.”

“Two cups of Yorkshire. Bag in. Thank you.” the black haired says with a tight-lipped, unconvincing smile. Louis nods, excusing himself to walk back to the hosting station.

Big Al selling the diner? That would never happen, he loves this place too much… There’s no way. Louis doesn’t believe it. Something doesn’t feel right.

He goes back into the kitchen without looking at the table. He takes out a new box of Yorkshire, and Bebe spots him, “Hey you! I feel like I haven’t seen you all day!’

Louis smiles, “Hi Beebs.”

“Did coffee cutie show up?”

“Nah, that ship has sailed,” Louis says, forcing a chuckle, “But ehm, I wanted to ask you something… Do you know anything about Al selling the diner?”

Bebe laughs, “Al? Sell the diner? Yeah right! Why? Did you hear something about it?”

Louis shakes his head, “No. But, there’s a couple of people saying that they’re looking at buying the place.”

“Hm, well tell ‘em they’ve got the wrong place.” Bebe says, patting Louis’ shoulder before going back to the sink filled with dishes.

Louis can’t help but frown as he finishes prepping the tea. He sets the saucer and cups in front of the two men, “Is there anything else I can get you?” Louis asks, feeling an itch to directly interrogate the two.

The black haired one looks up with that same tight-lipped smile, “We’ll let you know.”

Lou nods, immediatley retreating back to the kitchen. He walks around casually, asking the other waitresses how they’re doing and  _ “oh hey, have you heard about Big Al selling the diner?” _

He even asked the cooks, and everyone gave him the same answer: No.

After a few minutes of questioning the kitchen staff, Louis starts to talk himself up-- ready to march out there and confront the two men about what they actually want.

But as Louis returns to the dining room, he sees the men are gone. The booth is empty, tea untouched.

Louis walks to the table, frowning at the cups.

How peculiar. Untouched tea, unusual questions, loitering in the parking lot. There’s such a weird vibe that’s going on right now, it makes Louis’ stomach turn a bit.

As Louis picks up the cups, he notices something.

There’s a piece of paper under one of them-- the one the black haired one had. Louis looks around before pulling the note from underneath the cup. He unfolds the paper, and scribbled in elegant cursive, reads the phrase: 

_ Il vaut mieux être seul que mal accompagné. _

It must be French.

Louis’ heart skips a beat.  _ French.  _ His hands starting to sweat.  _ Is this from… Harry? _

Humored at the mere possibility Harry would leave a note for Louis, let alone leaving a note with those two shady characters makes Louis chuckle.

“Stupid.” Louis mutters to himself, amused with his naive imagination. He slips the note into his pocket and grabs the cups.

Louis goes back to the kitchen, ready to tell Bebe about the note and those weird guys, but she’s not at the dish station. A little bummed, Louis places the dishes in the sink and goes back to his cubby to get his phone.

Louis pulls up google translate and puts in the phrase on the note.

_ One better be alone than in bad company. _

What is that supposed to mean?

... If that did come from Harry, is that supposed to be a lame explanation as to why he stopped showing up?  _ Not that Harry owes me an explanation.. I mean, we’re not even dating or anything. _

Louis shakes his head.  _ Bad company. _ So Harry thinks of himself as bad company?...Like he’ll corrupt Louis or something? That’s so lame. Louis’ had alcohol before, he’s even done marijuana a few times. So Harry wouldn’t be bad company in that way. And it’s not like Louis is a virgin or anything… 

Louis’ cheeks redden at the thought of Harry doing anything inherently sexual to Louis.

Louis looks at the translation again.  _ Bad company. _

Maybe… dangerous? Louis’ mind slips to the two guys that left the note. Maybe they think Harry is bad company…  _ You don’t think they... _ did _ something to Harry..?... Is this a threat? _

“Whatcha doin’ Lou?” Bebe speaks up from behind Lou, making him jump a little.

“Ehm…” Louis turns off his phone, shoving the note and his phone into his pocket. How would he explain this to Bebe? He can’t. What if what’s happening here  _ is  _ dangerous, “Just… checking my grades. I’m, uh, waiting for my History final to come back.”

Bebe chuckles, “I’m sure you did fine.”

Louis nods, offering her a semi-believable smile. As Louis goes through the rest of his shift, he can’t help but think about the questions those guys were asking. Why were they so interested? 

At the end of his shift, Louis steps into Al’s office.

“Hey Big Al.” Louis says, leaning on the doorway, “Have a minute?”

Al looks up from the papers on his desk, smiling at the sight of Louis, “Of course. Please, sit.”

Louis takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of Al’s desk, “There were some guys in here earlier.” Louis starts as Al sets his papers aside, “They were asking a lot of questions and they, ehm, well they said you were selling the diner.”

Al pause, regains his composure and then gives a half-hearted chuckle, “Well that  _ is  _ strange.”

“I know it’s none of my business…” Louis says, unsure of how to process Al’s reaction.

“No no,” Al chuckles more convincingly, “I’m not selling the diner. I’m--I will be here for a long,  _ long _ time.”

Louis gives Al a tight smile, softly chuckling too, “Right. That’s what I thought. I just wanted to make sure.” Louis looks at his hands, “I better get going.”

“You should really give studying a break, Lou.” Al says with a grin, “Go out and live a little.”

Louis laughs as he starts to leave the office, “Yeah, yeah.” He stops in the doorway, “Have a good night, Al.”

“You too Louis.”

As Louis drives back to his apartment he can’t help but feel something is going on. He tries not to think about it too much, but it’s all so… weird...odd...even peculiar.

  
_ Strange _ … like Al said.


	4. Night Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang tight, shit's gonna get REALLY REAL next chapter

For the next few days, Louis can’t help but feel on edge. With those two suspicious characters looming in the back of his mind, they also happen to be everywhere Louis looks.

Maybe he’s just going crazy, but he swears he saw the blonde at Starbucks the other day, and the dark-haired one was definitely following him for a few blocks when he went to the grocery store.

On the other hand, Harry hasn’t been around at all. The note was the last sign of Harry that Louis would probably ever have. It is a little sad, Louis must admit, but it was never going to happen anyway.

Louis had tried to tell himself that while the pair would flirt and giggle, but it was so hard whenever Harry would smile at him or Louis would catch him looking a little too long when Louis was working on his flashcards.

It made sense in the moment, but in the long run-- in actuality, Harry wouldn’t fall for Louis.

And here Louis is, in the moment again-- trying to focus on work. It’s been a long day and the sun is beginning to set. Bebe had asked Louis to step in for her near the end of her shift so she could tend to some sort of family problem. Of course, he did.

Louis walks over to the table Bebe had cleaned off for him before she clocked out and left. Louis slaps the wet washcloth down on the table and leans over, clearing the table of crumbs and remnants of the last couple that ate here.

Louis glances up, loving the color of the sky tonight. But Louis’ heart jumps when two suspicious characters catch his eye.

Louis recognizes the blonde hair and cocky demeanor. His car door is open, he’s leaning over the top of the car, talking to his dark haired partner who mimics his body language.

They seem to be discussing something serious-- both frowning as they speak. Louis looks back down at the table as he slowly wipes the table _What are they doing here? They’re not watching me… are they?_

Paranoia seeps through Louis’ tough persona and he has to look up again. He peeks through his lashes, spotting an old rusty car pulling up to the two. Louis’ heart starts pumping-- bombings, shootings, and other worst-case scenarios flash though his mind.

Without making it too obvious, Louis watches someone get out of the car. His eyebrows pull together: _It’s a kid._ Well not a kid, but a teenager. He can’t be more than 17. Louis takes note of the young driver too-- they must be friends.

The boy approaches the blonde with a head nod. The blonde returns the gesture and says something. The kid answers.

The blonde says something else. The kid shrugs.

The blonde rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. The kid speaks up, taking a step forward.

The blonde raises his eyebrows, interested. He agrees

The kid hands him something. It looks like… a wad of cash?

The blonde takes the cash and throws it over to the dark haired one who begins to immediately count it. He beckons the kid closer, reaching into his pocket and taking out

_Wait, is that?--What is that?_

Louis watches as the kid discreetly takes a little baggie of white powder from the blonde and shoves it into his jacket pocket. The blonde pushes the kids head, as if dismissing him in the friendliest, most “we-did-not-just-complete-a-drug-deal” kind of way he could.

The kid slinks away and jumps into the junker car he came in and they drive away.

Louis’ nervousness suddenly turns to burning anger. How dare they bring that shit around Big Al and his diner. Louis throws down the towel and marches back to Al’s office.

“They just sold drugs to a kid!” Louis exclaims as he walks into the little office. Big Al looks up, concerned and curious.

“Who?”

“Those two creeps that have been hanging around! I just saw them sell two bags of coke to kids!”

Al’s eyebrows pull together as his face sets in a deep frown, “Lou…” he says in an unsure tone, “I know they look a little sketchy but… cocaine?”

“Yes!” Louis throws his hands up in the air, “I _watched_ them take that kids money and give him coke!”

"Louis, maybe you should just take the rest of the night off. You've been working a couple of double shifts and--"

"Al, I know what I saw." Louis says firmly, making Big Al sigh in defeat.

“Alright...How do you know it was coke?”

“What else would it be?!”

“Ok, ok” Al says, pushing himself out of his chair, “They obviously are making you nervous...so why don’t I just ask them to leave, yeah?”

Louis nods, unhappy with the lack of serious punishment for the crime they just committed, but grateful that Al would do that. He follows Al back out into the dinning room and goes back to the table he was supposed to be cleaning. Catching a glimpse of the boys outside, Louis watches as Big Al walks up to the two. The blonde smiles, as if he’s greeting an old friend.

 _It must be an antagonizing look_ , Louis thinks to himself, _Smug dickhead._

Louis leans over the table, mindlessly wiping the cloth across the surface as he watches the three interact. Big Al’s back is to Louis so he can only watch the faces of the two men. The blonde seems amused by Big Al, but the dark haired one is stoic. But if Louis looks a little closer, he’d see the underlying terrified expression.

Before Louis can read too far into it, Big Al turns around and starts walking back. Louis watches as the once smug face of the blonde slowly turns down into a sneer. The two open their doors, but the blonde looks back into the window, immediately making eye-contact with Louis.

Louis’ heart drops as a cocky “I-know-something-you-don’t” type of smile creeps onto the blonde’s face. His gaze lingers a second too long, making Louis’ stomach turn. The blonde ducks into the car and turns it on.

Something is about to happen, Louis knows it.

Before he can register what he’s doing, Louis runs back to the kitchen, grabbing his things and clocking out. Louis races to his car and whips around front, following the black Audi down the road.

In the name of being a spy, Louis would follow two cars behind, sometimes taking a left when they kept going straight-- just to meet them a block down at another stoplight.

As Louis keeps a close eye on the suspects, he begins to make a plan.

_Ok. When we get to wherever we’re going, I’ll park a few blocks away and follow on foot. It could be a bar, or maybe a restaurant. I’ll use the camera on my phone to snap pictures of any evidence of sketchy activity; get out if things seem like they might go south. Don’t let them see you and don’t look suspicious._

They drive to the outskirts of town, the sun already set so the yellow street lights guide them down a road on the coastline. There is one car separating Louis from the black Audi, but the car with the two trouble makers turn off onto a side road that leads down to a huge shipping dock.

Louis travels down the road a little farther before pulling off onto a gravel parking lot for hikers. He jogs down a well-used path before straying off into the knee-high grass.

He stops, surveying the yard. Louis watches at the Audi is accepted into the entrance, the huge fence glides open; tall chain-link fence wraps all the way around the shipping yard.

This is the opposite of what Louis had expected. He was thinking these two dealers would prey on some poor junkie at a sketchy club in a back alley. What are they doing here? Are there dock workers looking for a quick fix? Is there a high demand of drugs in the shipping dock profession?

Louis trots down to the fence, looping his fingers through the chain-link and giving it a tug. The material is surprisingly nimble, allowing Louis to notice the fence is not buried into the ground. Instead, the fence barely grazes the grass. If he can pull up the bottom, there’s a possibility that Louis can fit through.

In the distance, Louis spots a car navigating its way through the shipping containers.

Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Louis squats down, pulls the fence up and squeezes through the small opening. He stumbles down the little hill and lands on the concrete. _I can’t lose that car._

Louis runs over to one of the containers, leaning against the side for cover. He peeks around the corner; an endless labyrinth of huge shipping containers fill the yard. He looks around, looking and listening for guards. He can feel his heart beat in his ears.

There are no look-out towers, supposing no one suspects that there would be many drug deals on a shipping dock-- but there has to be some security somewhere around here.

Louis jumps over to the next shipping container, following the car deeper into the yard.

As Louis is about to run over to the next, he sees the flashing of lights and speaking. His heart drops, slamming his back against the red container he’s hiding behind. Louis kneels, peeking around the corner.

Once he sees two guns, he jumps back.

There were two guards, carrying AK 203’s with flashlights attached to the top. They didn’t seem like they knew Louis was there, carelessly talking to each other.

 _Guns?! Why would they have guns?! It’s a_ shipping _yard for Christ’s sake!_

Louis can hear their footsteps getting closer and adrenaline pumps through his veins; he runs to the opposite end of the container-- Not sure which way is safer, he makes a left and squats down. Quickly, Louis whips out his phone, opening the the camera and holds it just enough around the corner to spot the two guards as they pass. Louis snaps a picture and runs in the direction the mysterious black car went.

Only a few more containers, and two more guards to doge later, the car has stopped. Louis kneels behind one of the red containers and pulls out his phone as the blonde and dark-haired one step out of the car. The headlights are still on, but hardly needed under the bright lights of the shipping yard. They shine on the closed door of one of the containers.

The blonde and dark haired one walk toward a group of men. Two stand in front with another two behind them, holding guns. They exchange words and a kiss on each cheek.

_They seem to know each other, friends maybe?_

One of the unknown men gesture to the shipping container and two more men appear from out of nowhere. Louis pulls out his phone as the new men begin to push up the door of the container.

When it’s fully open, Louis’ mouth drops open.

Bags on top of bags of white powder. Drugs. They have to be drugs. What else would it be? Saran wrapped flour?

The blonde exclaims happily, throwing an arm around one of the other comrades as he gestures around the shipping yard.

_Is that stuff in every one of these shipping containers?_

This is much bigger than some dumb drug dealers. The expensive, suspicious cars, the guns, the huge shipping yard…. Is this gang related? Are they gang members? Louis’ heart pounds against his chest.

_Better be alone than in bad company._

Louis snaps a few pictures, zooming in to get the faces of each of the perpetrators. Satisfied, and absolutely terrified, Louis runs back. As adrenaline courses through his veins, Louis weaves through the shipping yard, dodging the occasional guard and slipping underneath the fence.

Louis stands, back to the shipping yard. He flips through the pictures he took: The armed guards, the container filled with drugs, the sketchy men rejoicing in their completed transaction. Louis has it all documented. He could put these guys away.

Louis’ heart pounds as he runs up the trail. _Who do I tell? What do I do? Gang shit, that was gang shit._

Louis unlocks his car and speeds away, going to the one person he can trust. _What do I say? What will he tell me that I don’t already know? If I go to the police, they could track this back to me. I could be seriously hurt,  if not killed for this._

_But if I don’t do this, I let them win; continue to terrorize me and Big Al’s-- continue to terrorize the city with their crimes. I let them continue to kill innocent people, like my mother._

With the burst of adrenaline, Louis can feel himself shaking as he speeds toward the diner. He’s so jumpy, he almost runs into cars parked on the sides of the streets.

_Gang shit. That was gang shit. Like full blown gang shit._

Louis pulls in behind the diner and bursts through the back door, running into the dinning room in search of Al.

Big Al looks up from the cash register, surprised to see Louis here so late.

“Louis,” Al smiles warmly at Louis, still happy to see the young boy.

“I-I- those guys- they’re-they--” Louis stumbles over his words, feeling his hands shaking-- adrenaline courses through his veins, “Gang members.”

Louis falls into one of the booths, sitting with his arms wrapped around him. Al puts the money back in the register, no longer concerned with the day’s earnings.

Al kneels down in front of Louis, “What are you talking about?”

“Those-those guys,” Louis starts, feeling sick, “The ones who kept coming around--the shady ones-- they’re a part of a gang or something. I-I followed them and--”

“You what?!” Al exclaims, placing his hands on Louis’ leg, “You _followed_ them?! Louis!”

“I know! I know.” Louis defends, “I couldn’t help it.. Something just felt off about them and I had to know what was going on.”

“What did you see?”

“They were at the docks,” Louis says, “Huge shipping containers were filled with bags of cocaine-- or maybe it was heroin, I don’t know-- But there was so much. The whole yard must’ve been filled with the same stuff.”

“Fuck, Louis.” Al stands, his hand on his forehead, “You’re sure you saw that?”

Louis nods and Big Al exhales, scared for the young boy. If anyone would have seen Louis, he could’ve been kidnapped, tortured. Al knows Louis didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an innocent boy-- he’s not involved in that stuff.

“I have to go to the police.” Louis says, breaking the silence.

“What?!” Al whips to Louis, “You can’t! Louis. If that’s _really_ what you saw, then that’s some serious fucking gang shit.” Big Al says, sliding into the seat across from Louis, “You take that to the police and those boys will _kill_ you, Louis. They will _kill you_.”

Al’s words hang in the air, Louis’ heart pounds in his chest.

“So… what? I just let them win?” Louis asks, looking up to Al through his watery eyes, “Let them continue to terrorize the city? Kill innocent people like my mother?”

A tear slips down Louis’ cheek.

Al sighs, hanging his head. He knows the young boy too well; there’s no way he could talk Louis out of this.

“... Okay.” Al agrees, “I’ll call down to the station.”

Louis gives Al a curt, and thankful nod, as Al walks back to his office.

Louis turns in the booth, folding his hands on the table. For the first time, Louis exhales. The whole time it has felt like Louis has been holding his breath.

What if these are the guys that killed his mom? What if he is about to make those fuckers see justice for what they’ve done to her, and countless others?

Louis takes a deep breath as another tear rolls down his cheek. _This is it. This is what I want to do. If I am any help to catching and locking up those criminals, then maybe I can find peace… God, I miss you mom._

Al is gone for, what feels like, an eternity. When he finally reappears from the back, Louis is too distracted to recognize Al’s saddened face.

“They’re waiting for you,” Al says, placing his hand on the counter next to the register, “down at the station. They’ll probably put you in an interrogation room, but don’t be scared. You didn’t do anything.”

“Will you come with?” Louis asks as he stands.

“Uhm, I’ll finish up around here,” Al gestures to the register, “and I’ll meet you down there.”

Louis nods, mentally preparing his statements for the police, “See you in a bit.” Louis says and gives Al a quick hug before walking to the back door.

Louis places his hand on the metal handle. _Do I really want to do this? What could this mean for me? My safety? My future?_

Deep breath.

He pushes through the door, met with a warm blast of summer night air. Louis takes a step out, letting the door close behind him, _it will be okay._

Louis walks toward his car at the end of the alley, the yellow light above the back door barely reaches his car, leaving it in the shadows.

As Louis gets closer to the car, figures start to form on either side of the car. Louis slows his pace, wondering if he’s seeing things.

The figures start to move toward Louis, making Louis stop in his tracks--his heart drops.

“Hi there darling.” one of the figures says, Louis can vaguely recognize the Irish accent. The two figures come into the light and Louis takes a step back. It’s the two gang members.

“Need a ride?” the black haired one asks, a devilish grin on his face.

Louis turns to run in the other direction, but bumps into another member. The man grabs Louis’ arms and holds them behind his back. Louis struggles against the strong grip, “No. No! Help!” Louis screams, “Al! Help me!”

The blonde one chuckles and approaches Louis with a sickening grin, “Night night.”

With one blow, Louis is out cold.


	5. Click Click Boom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> There's some pretty graphic and threatening stuff in this chapter. If kidnapping, blood, guns, or other violence like that makes you uneasy, at the end of the chapter I'll put a little summary of what happened.

An intense pounding stirs Louis to consciousness. The whole left side of his head hurts, making him feel dizzy. Slowly Louis peels his eyes open, sensitive to the fluorescent lights shining down on him.

Suddenly, memories of blonde hair and dark alleys flood through Louis’ mind. He snaps up, trying to stand, but he falls back into the chair. His hands are tied behind his back, both legs tied as well. He struggles a bit more, but it’s no use.

He looks around, heart pounding in his chest and tears welling in his eyes, absolutely terrified. It’s a huge storage warehouse, concrete floors and high ceilings. Windows line the very top of the room, it’s still dark outside, so Louis couldn’t have been unconscious for long.

Some movement to his right makes Louis jump. He looks over, seeing four other people tied up, all already conscious. They each look the part: tough, weathered-- like they’ve been in this situation before. They know why they’re here. It’s very cinematic, the only lights on are above them, like five spotlights shinning down.

There’s hospital screen dividers blocking the five of them from seeing what’s on either side or behind them. Louis tries not to look, but he can see red staining on the white screen. Tears spill over, falling down his cheeks. _What is happening? Why am I here?Am I...am I going to die?_

Faint screaming reaches Louis, only intensify his terror. Through the dark, Louis can see a dimly lit hallway where the agonizing screams are faintly echoing.

His heart is racing and the room feels like it’s spinning. With every movement, the rope rubs into his skin with an uncomfortable, burning itch. The others are in the same position, but don’t looked phase by their state. In fact, they look angry-- pissed off that they got caught.

“Wh-what-- what’s going on?” Louis speaks up and the man next to him rolls his eyes.

“I would get a tougher attitude, kid,” the guy three seats down says, “They love that scared shitless look.”

Then, a shadow appears in the hallway, walking toward them. As the figure comes closer, the single figure turns into five men five-- _They have to be gang members_.

They stand in line in front of Louis and the others; one member to one abducted. They're softly illuminated by the the lights shining down on the abducted. Louis looks down the line of them, heart dropping when he recognizes the blonde standing one guy down. The dark haired one stands next to him, arms crossed as he stares at his own abducted guy.

Louis’ stomach drops. _I’m going to die._

The blonde doesn’t acknowledge Louis. Instead, he smiles devilishly at the man in front of him (the one who talked to Louis earlier), “Hello handsome,” he says patronizingly, “Remember me?”

As he speaks, the other members stare forward at their own abducted man. Louis glances at the one in front of him, not recognizing the face-- but not wanting to look too long.

The abducted man that the blonde is talking to doesn’t say anything, prompting the blonde to feign hurt, “No? Well we had so much fun last time we saw each other, didn’t we?"

His pretend-sadness turns into a dark glower, “Oh-- right. You got to have all the fun.” the blonde pulls up his shirt, revealing burn marks scarring the right side of his torso, “This jog yer memory?”

The guy says nothing--instead, spits at the blonde; the wad splatters on the blondes shoe.

Louis flinches, ready for a crazy reaction. Instead, the blonde laughs, “That’s not very fun!” he turns around, grabbing something out of sight, “Let’s have some fun, whadda say lads?”

When he turns back around, Louis sees a revolver in his hand. He holds up one bullet, shoving it into one of the chambers and snapping it shut. Louis notices the creepy smirk that appears on each of the gang members faces.

“Who’s up for a game?” the blonde asks, devilishly looking up at the one who spit at him, “Maybe a little… Russian Roulette?”  
Louis’ breath hitches, tears springing to his eyes.

“You may be askin’ yerself, ‘How do ya play?’” the blonde smiles down the line of abducted, “We don’t know when the gun will fire a blank or the bullet. So we each take turns holding this to yer heads,” the blonde says, aiming it at his abducted man, “We pull the trigger and BOOM” he pretends to shoot the man, “if it goes off, ya lose.”

“Everybody ready?” the blonde asks with an excited grin, “Perfect!”

“Dash first.” the blonde says and hands it to the dark haired one-- _Dash_.

Louis can feel his heart in his throat, tears refusing to stop streaming down his cheeks. _I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die._

Dash takes the gun and cocks it. He stands a few feet away from his abducted man. Louis can see the mans eyes go wide with terror, earning an amused smirk from Dash. He soaks in the fearful look, loving the way the abducted man squirms and how he refuses to let the tears fall from his eyes.

Dash puts his finger on the trigger, relishing the terror radiating off of the man.

He pulls the trigger and--

_Click._

Silence.

The abducted man slumps over, relief washing over him. Dash rolls his eyes, “Anticlimactic.” He says and hands the gun over to the blonde who snorts. Louis’ heart drops. He is only three men away from it being his turn. Hot tears slide down Louis’ cheeks.  
“Better luck next time.” he says to Dash. He looks to his own abducted man with an excited smile, “Our turn!”

His fun demeanor immediately falls as he holds up the gun, pointing it the man who shows no sign of fear.

“Should I shoot you in yer head?” the blonde wonders, “Tell me, do ya think ya deserve a quick death?...Hm? Or should I shoot ya in the shoulder?” he points the gun lower, “Let ya bleed to death, with all the fun of a gunshot wound.”

“Just shoot, you bastard.” the man spits and the blonde juts out his bottom lip, mimicking a toddler.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He says in a baby voice the immediately pulls the trigger, making Louis’ heart jump.

_Click._

The blonde’s shoulders fall, dramatically expressing his disappointment that he didn’t get to shoot the abducted man, “Alright…fiiiine.” the blonde moves to give the gun to the next gang member.

“Huh. Fuck you, faggot.” the man growls, a sly smirk on his face. Instantly, the blonde turns back to the guy, rapidly pulling the trigger on the gun until it goes off.

_Click._

_Click._

_Click- BOOM._

The thunderous explosion was deafening, covering Louis’ terrified scream. The bullet rips through the man's head, the sheer force of the gunshot pushing the man's head backward before slumping forward. Blood and pieces of his skull splatter the floor behind him, some blood even trickles from the bullet hole in his forehead onto his lap.

Louis' eyes are wide, mouth open as a sob escapes from his mouth. The men aren't fazed by the corpse or by Louis' crying. Instead, the blonde relishes the sight of the slumped body, satisfied with his shot. Then, a moment longer and he flicks his wrist in a "get-this-out-of-here" motion. Two of the men untie the body and carry it out of sight.

 _He shot three times. The bullet would have been in my head._ _  
_ Louis doubles over, restrained by the rope holding his hands behind the chair. Another sob racks through his body, feeling his whole body tremble. _Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying_ , he tell himself, but he can’t.

“Shut up.” he hears the blonde hiss, probably turned toward Louis. Louis can’t catch his breath, beginning to hyperventilate _He’s dead. It could’ve been me-- it would’ve been me._

“Somebody shut ‘im up.” Louis can hear the blonde say dismissively.

Two hands grab Louis’ back and neck, yanking him back, making Louis whimper. Another member buckles a gag around Louis’ head, the fat ball in his mouth muffles Louis’ cries.

Through his tears he can see the blonde pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do we do with the rest of ‘em?” Dash asks.  
“Mmm, what do you think? Red rooms?” he looks down the line of abducted. He glances over to Louis, making a double-take when he sees the ball gag in his mouth. An amused, wicked grin slides across his face, “Except for him.”

Louis’ stomach drops as two of the men drag the other abducted men toward the hallway with the agonizing screams. Hot tears stream down Louis cheeks as the blonde approaches him with a cocky, slow stride.

“What do you wanna do with him?” Dash asks. Louis shakes his head, muffled “no’s” get stuck in the ball gag. _I’m going to throw up._

The blonde only continues, placing one hand on Louis’ knee and the other on the back of the chair. “Please, no. Please.” Louis muffles, terrified, wide eyes.

In one quick movement, the blonde turns Louis’ chair around, earning a scream from Louis. He now faces the back screen divider, covered in blood. _I’m going to faint._

“Dauntless.” Dash says, almost sounding like a warning. The two other men have joined them again and Louis’ head is spinning. They form a half- circle around the terrified boy.

“I dunno,” the blonde -- _Dauntless_ \-- says, pulling Louis’ hair back to make him look up, “He’s lookin’ kinda pretty with that gag in his mouth.”

Suddenly, A loud slam makes the gang look up. Whatever is behind Louis makes them all smile at each other, as if sharing a joke that Louis isn’t a part of.

“Big Daddy’s comin’” Dauntless whispers into Louis’ ear with a sickening grin, “Ya poor bastard.”

 _Big Daddy._ The words settle into Louis’ skin like shards of glass. Dash and Dauntless move out of Louis’ sight, ready to greet… Big Daddy. The other three stand in a line, similar to how they met Louis. They all face a tall dark figure walking down the hallway behind Louis-- The same hallway Louis had heard screaming from earlier, but he had been so focused on not dying that he hadn’t realized the screaming had stopped.

“What’s going on?” the man asks humorously, as if he’s seen this a million times. His voice make Louis’ hair stand on end.

“We found a lookie-Lou,” Dash says, spinning Louis’ chair to face Big Daddy, making Louis yelp into the gag.

The man is tall, still hidden by the shadows of the warehouse. But as he steps into the light, Louis can see he’s wiping his hands clean with a red towel-- No. A red _stained_ towel.

A tear slides down Louis’ cheek, shaking his head gingerly; silently begging big Daddy not to kill him. Don’t wipe his blood off on a towel, don’t dump his body, please.. Just _please_ let him go.

Then suddenly, all of the air is knocked out of Louis when he sees the man-- actually _sees_ the man:

Brown, disheveled curls are kept at bay by a black headband-- sweat glistens across the mans strong bone structure-- his lips are pulled down into a frown and his eyes are dark.

It’s Harry.

Once Harry makes eye contact, the once frightening features turn soft, then scrunch in confusion. It’s the first time anyone has seen Harry caught by surprise.

Louis’ heart stops, _It’s Harry._

So many questions run through his head, making him feel dizzy and sick. Louis drops his head, not sure if he should be relieved or even more terrified.

_What will he say? What will he do? Will he kill me?_

Dauntless yanks Louis’ hair back, making Louis whimper into the ball gag.

“He’s pretty, ain’t he?” Dauntless asks, turning Louis’ head to look at him. Tears start to well in Louis’ eyes again, his stomach dropping.

“Step. _Back_.” Harry says in a calm, low voice.

Immediately the blonde lets go of Louis, allowing Louis to look straight at Harry with wide, scared eyes.

“You _grabbed_ him?” Harry asks, his voice is eerily curious. He throws the towel to the side and calmly walks toward the group.

Dash and Dauntless are obviously affected by the reaction, “He, uh,” Dauntless starts, sounding nervous, “We thought he was--”

Two men, both dressed in black suits, appear out of thin air and stand behind Harry. They are massive in size and absolutely terrifying.

“You _knew_ who he was.” Harry interrupts him, “And you still grabbed him.”

There’s no answer.

“I trusted you with a simple task,” Harry sounds distressed, but Louis can tell he has no sympathy for Dauntless, “A piece of _fucking_ paper-- And you turn around and do this to me?” Harry gestures to Louis. None of the men say anything and Harry gives an exasperated sigh.

“After all I’ve done for you…” Harry turns to Louis as he continues talking to his men, “to disrespect me like this.”

Harry reaches around Louis, the small boy flinching at the movement—still scared from the violence he had just witnessed. Louis could’ve sworn he’d seen a flash of the sweet, sympathetic Harry that he’d met in the diner.

Harry unbuckles the gag and when it’s out, Louis releases a shaky breath, “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Harry turns his back, squeezing the ball gag tight in his fist, “I oughta beat you into the _fucking_ ground.” Harry spits at the blonde, and whips around to face his men, “But now I have your mess to clean up.”

Louis sneaks a peak at the men, all frozen and terrified.

“Take ‘em to see Brucie.” Harry demands, and his two henchmen start walking over to group of men.

“No! Sir, please!” They start begging as the two giants approach them, “It wasn’t our fault!”

Their pleads do nothing to stop Harry’s decision and their cries for mercy become more helpless until the blonde speaks out.

“He-He followed us!” Dauntless exclaims as the one of the bodyguards grips his arms behind his back.

Harry stops in his tracks-- he holds up his hand and snaps once. Everyone goes silent as the henchman brings the blonde forward, arms held tightly behind his back. Dauntless looks almost relieved as Harry has granted him a chance to save his ass.

“Down to the docks, we found pictures on his phone.”

Harry’s eyes snap up to Louis, and Louis can feel his heart drop.

“S-since we already found that other kid from the Blue Reapers, we assumed they were together,” the dark haired one pipes up, desperate to be granted mercy from Harry.

Harry snaps his fingers again and the other henchmen brings the dark haired man to stand next to the blonde. Harry turns away from Louis and faces the offenders.

“The rest of you: Out.” Harry says and instantly the boys push over each other to get out of the room. Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, completely frustrated.

Once the other men are gone, Harry flicks his wrist and dismisses the two henchmen. They release the two boys and take a step back, still waiting for any command from Harry.

They all sit in silence as they wait for Harry’s response. Louis’ heart pounds against his chest, _I don’t want to see more people die. I don’t want to die._

The quiet makes the dark haired one a little too nervous, “What were we supposed to do, boss? He saw everything…”

“My two best men,” Harry says, holding his arms out as if he were going to hug them, “I give you a simple task” He clasps his hands together, “deliver a piece of _fucking_ paper to someone important to me.”

“Boss-”

“Interrupt me again and I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.” Harry says. The threat came out so easily, so smoothly that Louis can feel his stomach turn.

“I gave you this task because I trusted you both. I knew you wouldn’t hold him against me. Instead, you do the very thing that I was concerned about our enemies doing. Do you understand why I'm angry?"

They both give curt nods.

Harry nods too, "I told you to get in and out. How simple is that? Daiker?” Harry asks his henchmen.

“Very simple, sir.” the one behind the blonde says in a low, unintentionally scary voice.

“Daemon?” he asks the other.

“It’s the easiest job, sir.”

“The _easiest_ job I could bestow and yet… here we are.” Harry looks back to the two men infront of him, “I don’t want to punish you. You are dear to my heart. But what kind of message does that send to the family? Huh?”

The two don’t answer, which Harry takes as an answer in itself.

“ _Because_ you are my closest men… I will grant you this one kindness.” Harry finally says.

The two sigh in relief.

“But now you are in my debt. Whatever I ask you to do, there will be no hesitation-- Only immediate gratitude that I still trust you.”

“Thank you boss. It’s won’t happen again--” the dark-haired one says.

“When I tell you to jump, you jump. When I tell you to hold hold your breath, you go blue in the face. When I tell you break your legs...you ask for a hammer. Got it?” Harry asks and the two nod.

“Don’t lose my trust.” Harry says and takes a step back, turning away from them, “Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

As the men are escorted away, Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ bicep and guides him to stand without a word.

“Harry, I-” Louis whispers, but can’t make a coherent statement. _How do I beg for my life?_

Harry guides Louis across the large concrete room and down one of the hallways. This one is much better lighted than the hallway Harry came out of. At the end of the long hallway are two giant, steel double doors with two, equally scary, men standing guard on either side. Louis can feel his heart drop as his eyes prick with tears again.

“Please Harry.” Louis begs quietly.

_I don’t want to die._

 

 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just lightening his grip so it doesn’t feel so harsh. He greets the two men and they push open the gigantic doors making Louis wince in preparation for what’s to come.

To his surprise, instead of a chamber of horrors and torture, it’s a small waiting space. Two large, golden elevator doors are on the wall in front of them. There’s a fireplace and black leather couches and chairs, the romantically dim lights and red carpet make the room feel private-- intimate.

Harry presses the elevator button as Louis tries to sneak a peek at the well-decorated waiting room.

_What is going on?_

The doors open almost immediately and Harry guides Louis in. As soon as the doors close, Harry is on his knees, undoing the rope from Louis’ wrists. When the rope hits the floor Harry stands, taking Louis face in his hands, moving his head side-to-side to check for any injury.

The genuine worry in Harry’s eyes makes Louis release a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. _He’s not going to kill me._ Relief floods his body. This is the Harry that Louis knows.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks.

It’s a simple question. A question you ask someone after they fall, or when your friend looks sad. The answer is always, ‘yeah, I’m fine’. But this wasn’t a clumsy spill or a breakup.

Louis got kidnaped and tied up. A man got shot. Parts of his head are splattered across the floor in the warehouse.

The images of the bloodied scene flash through Louis’ mind, making Louis grab Harry’s hands and push them off. He takes a step back and presses his back against the wall of the elevator, “No.”

“Fuck, Louis.” Harry whispers as his heart clenches for the young boy, “I’m…I’m _so_ sorry.”

His tone is much more gentle and sincere than when they were downstairs, but that doesn’t make Louis feel any better. He’s in an elevator with a gang member.

_Holy fuck. Harry’s a gang member._

Louis stares at the floor. He can’t stop replaying the image of the gun shot—The smile on that blondes face as he watched the body fall to the ground in a pool of blood. Is that what Harry does when he kills innocent people?

The elevator dings, causing Louis to jump. The doors open and the two are showered with white, morning light.

“Cmon,” Harry beckons, his hand outstretched for Louis to take. Louis looks behind the gang member. The room is huge-- like a studio apartment for a billionaire. It’s concrete, similar to downstairs, but the white bricks and light-brown wood of the dining room furniture make it less intimidating.

Sunlight streams through the thin curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Louis looks back to Harry. The lighting from behind makes him look like an angel, his hand still extended for Louis to take.

Louis just stares at it, unable to comprehend what’s happening.

“Please, Louis. I owe you an explanation.” Harry says. Louis looks back to the room. This must be Harry’s place. The waiting room, the big steal doors, the two bodyguards standing watch.

Harry seems genuinely worried about Louis, and from the fact that Harry didn’t kill Louis downstairs, it must mean that Harry sees something in Louis. Offering an explanation could mean more time for Louis to figure out how to get the hell out of here.

Louis slowly reaches up to take his hand.

Harry leads him inside the apartment and to the left, where a huge white marble kitchen is waiting for them. Harry lets Louis sit on one of the black bar stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Okay?” Harry asks and Louis looks at the ground, giving him one curt nod.

Harry sets a kettle on the stove for Louis and takes out some cream and sugar for him, trying to buy time to figure out how to explain all this to this beautiful, sweet boy. Louis just watches as he nervously flutters around the kitchen like a housewife who’s been told her husband is coming home early.

Once there’s nothing more to fiddle with, Harry back leans against the stove, “So...where should we start?”

Louis stays quiet, hands on his lap. He can’t form a coherent thought-- so many questions swim around his head and yet nothing. He feels nothing and everything at the same time.

“Louis?” Harry asks again. Louis can hear the gentle concern in his voice, but it makes no difference.

Louis shakes his head in disbelief, now glaring at his hands, “I-I don’t--I can’t….” Louis tries to make sense of his wild thoughts, but to no avail. The only thing that he can come up with is, “Why?” he asks, looking up to Harry, “Why?”

Harry almost laughs. He doesn’t intend for it to be a mean reaction, he just finds it cute that the first question is why.

That’s always the first question they ask.

_Why am I here?_

_Why are you doing this to me?_

_Why me?_

_Why, why, why?_

But when he locks eyes with Louis, all humor of his past victims is lost. Louis isn’t one of his victims. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He _shouldn’t_ be here.

Harry sighs, “It’s a long story--most of which I can’t share with you...”

This vague answer makes Louis’ eyebrows pull together. Louis crosses his arms, sitting up in his chair, “Why?”

Harry feels like he’s being pulled in two different directions. He wants to tell Louis everything and to reassure him it’s all going to be okay. But it’s so dangerous for Louis to have any information-- too dangerous for him to even _be_ here.

“If I tell you this stuff-- what’s really going on-- it puts you in serious danger, Louis. And I am so _fucking_ sorry that this is happening. I never meant for it to be this way.”

The constant apologies and pity in Harry's tone make Louis' stomach turn. Louis hugs his arms tighter around himself, "What.. are...are you gonna kill me or something?"

Harry’s heart drops at the thought of Louis even wondering if that was an option, “No. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Then tell me.” Louis says.

“Tell you what?”

“Everything.” Louis says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok hi again, here's a little summary of what happened:
> 
> Louis wakes up in a dark warehouse, tied up next to a few other guys. The blonde, which we find out is named Dauntless, talks to one of the abducted men about a time they had when that guy had Dauntless as a prisoner. Dauntless reveals some pretty bad burns/scaring from the last time they were together, which freaks Louis out about what could happen next.  
> The abducted guy is disrespectful and Dauntless kills him in a game of Russian Roulette. The other three abducted guys are sent to a scary hallway of torture rooms and Louis is left with Dash, Dauntless and the three other scary guys. Before anything can happen, Dauntless informs Louis that Big Daddy, their leader, is coming.  
> Louis finds out that Big Daddy is Harry.  
> Harry is super angry bc he told Dash and Dauntless to give L the note so he wouldn't get into trouble with any gangs. So for the two of them to do what H was trying to avoid makes him mad, but it comes out like a scene from the Godfather. "You disrespect me like this, but I will grant you a kindness" type of thing. H dismisses the men and takes L down a hallway toward two steel doors. Louis doesn't want to die. Not by Harry. Not like this.


	6. Helpless and Hopeless

The teapot squeals and Harry turns his back to Louis, pouring the boiling water into two teacups. He sets two tea bags onto each of the little saucers and walks around the island, causing Louis to push his chair back to get a little more distance between them.

Harry sits down, leaving the middle chair between them and hoping that Louis didn’t notice his slightly hurt ego. Harry didn’t want Louis to want to get away from him, this is what he was trying to avoid. “A little more specific, please?” Harry asks, pushing a teacup in front of Louis and set one down for himself. It’s such an open ended question. _What do I want to know?_

“Wh...what is this place? Why am I here?...Who _are_ you? Tell me…everything.” Louis says, keeping his arms tight around his torso, trying to find some security in it.

Harry is reluctant, mentally filing through what he can and shouldn’t say. He slowly dunks the tea bag into his cup, “My family… built a business from the ground up. We handle transactions of…” Harry waves his hand in the air, “various.. highly sought-after goods.

Louis squints at Harry, hyper-aware of the stupidly-careful way of wording. _So drugs,_ Louis thinks to himself.

Harry sees Louis is not amused by his attempt at humor, so he clears his throat, lightly chuckling to himself-- amused by how uncomfortable he feels. Men have threatened, spit at, cut and scarred Harry for information, but somehow, this is 100 times worse.

“A family business?” Louis asks doubtfully.

“Everyone here is my family. We look out for each other. They trust me to make sure everything goes smoothly-- a roof over their head, something to eat and money in their pockets-- In turn, they’re loyal to me.”

"So you live here?"

Harry nods, "When I'm not traveling for business, this is where I stay. A lot of my men live in this building."

Louis looks away, eyes scanning the simple lightwood of the dining table and chairs surrounding it. He wonders how many people have been up here before. Do they come up here and make a home-cooked meal to celebrate a drug deal that cost no lives? Do they celebrate when it does cost a life?

Harry watches Louis slip into a slight reverie, “I’m their leader. They look to me for everything.”

Louis is quiet for a second, feeling very displeased with that answer. He feels like he’s getting nowhere with the bits of information that Harry is giving him.

"How long have you been doing this?" 

"I've been involved for a while." Harry says, trying to be as vague as possible, "It's not like it's the only thing I've ever known.. but it changes you..consumes your life. My family needs a lot of my attention, so I don't have time for much else."

The ominous answer sends an involuntary shiver down Louis' spine.  _I bet killing people would change you_.

“So if this," Louis gestures to the room, "dictates what you do with your life, what were you doing at the diner? I can't imagine a timeline where you were casually there for a burger and light chit-chat with the help.” 

Harry frowns slightly at Louis’ wording, knowing that Louis is so much more than “the help” to him-- but also knowing that Louis isn’t allowed to know the real reason he was there that first day.

“I was there on business.” Harry says and Louis looks down, feeling a blow to the chest. He’s so stupid for ever believing that Harry was there for him. Harry was there to be a sleazy drug-dealing gang leader, not to fall in love. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Harry picks up on Louis’ hurt reaction and is quick to respond, “The first time, I was there on business. The rest was me… The rest was real.” Harry says leaning toward Louis and Louis looks up, getting caught in Harry’s gaze. Harry’s green eyes captivate Louis’ blue ones.

“I _wanted_ to be there with you. You made me-- you _make_ me happy,” Harry corrects himself, “You’re smart and funny and incredibly sweet. I was very lucky to have coffee spilled on me by you.” Harry gives Louis a cheeky smile and Louis’ can feel a smile threatening on the edge of his mouth.

“...And blue.” Harry says very decidedly.

“...Blue?”

“My favorite color.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

Harry grins, “You wanted to know everything.”

Louis rolls his eyes, knowing that a smile would give Harry some leverage. Louis was still very upset, but that damn charm would be the death of him.

Despite Louis’ attempt to keep a serious demeanor, Harry is an expert. He interrogates people everyday, he read Louis like a book. The attempt to suppress his smile makes Harry feel better-- knowing Louis still has some sort of feelings for him-- he would eventually be able to forgive Harry.

They sit in silence for a moment as Louis processes this information. He reluctantly reaches for the tea Harry had made him. He takes a sip and set it back down on the saucer, resting his hands on the warm sides of the cup, “...You’re a part of a… gang?” Louis asks.

“No,” Harry chuckles, swirling a spoon in his own tea cup--Well… Louis’ here, isn’t he? There’s no going back. Fuck it, “I’m the head of a mafia.”

“Fuck,” Louis whispers in half-humor and half-disbelief, putting his elbows on the counter and holds his head in his hands.

Harry stays quiet, waiting for him to continue. Louis takes a deep breath, “So…a mafia boss boss…” Louis states as he runs his hand through his hair and looks up to Harry, trying to make sense of this. Just a few weeks ago Harry was this amazingly sweet and charming guy who Louis had a stupid crush on. Now.. now he was a terrifyingly powerful mafia boss that kills people and sells bad things to bad people.

These developments are completely mind boggling, and hearing the words _mafia boss_ out loud make him rub his temples in an attempt to fully process, “Jesus Christ.” he mutters. Of course. _Of course. It’s always too good to be true. Everybody has to have_ something. _But his something is a fucking mafia boss._

With all this new information, Louis can’t help but have one last question that keeps poking at the back of his head.

“So...what happens now?” Louis asks tentative of the answer, “Now that I know all this…”

A weight lands on Harry’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. This was the one thing he didn’t want to talk about; Let the stupid blind-lovey feeling keep them in the dark about the reality of the situation. Because… how do you tell someone they can’t go home now? How do you casually throw that into the conversation?

As Harry silently ponders how he is going to let Louis down, Louis’ heartbeat starts to pound. The quiet begins to turn into an answer itself. The words of Dash and Harry come back him, hauntingly echoing in his head:

 _You_ **_grabbed_ ** _him?_

 _What were_ **_we supposed to do_ ** _, boss?_ **_He saw everything…_ **

Harry’s not going to let Louis leave. The realization causes tears to well in Louis’ eyes and shake his head, letting out a wet laugh in disbelief, “No.” Louis pleads softly, through the tears threatening to fall, “Please don’t say it.”

Harry looks up and, by the helpless look on his face, Louis knows his fate has been sealed. Louis closes his eyes, hanging his head as he wills the tears to stop. He doesn’t want to look any more pathetic than he’s coming across.

Harry watches Louis’ attempt to stay strong, his heart breaking in two as he looks for the words to give some sort of closure to Louis. He wants, more than anything, to just grab Louis and hold him close, to promise that everything will be okay as long as they’re together.

But that won’t happen now.

So instead, he gently says, “Quand le vin est tiré, il faut le boire.”

“Harry, please,” Louis says brokenly, eyes squeezed shut, “Now is not the time for your French proverbs.”

“It...It means once the wine is drawn, one must drink it.” Harry explains softly, squeezing his own hands in his lap.

Oh, what Louis would do for a bottle of wine and six shots of whiskey right now.

With his stupidly eloquent proverb, Harry is attempting to tell Louis that once the first step is taken, there’s no going back. Now that Louis has this information, there’s no way Harry would just let him out. There’s no going back.

There’s no going back. So what is there? What are the options?

He sniffles as he sits up, flicking the hair out of his eyes, “So, what? I’m supposed to… _join_ the mafia?” This saddened, doe-eyed victim state that Louis has been trapped in for the last four hours has now been replaced with a defensive, slow-burning, hostile one. Louis scoffs, “I’d rather you kill me right now.”

And, for the first time, Louis sees his words wound Harry.  
“Loui-”

“No.” Louis stops him, “My mother was _shot_ and _killed_ by people like you,” he stresses the words slowly as if Harry were dull-- resentment stabbing his heart “and you think I would _willingingly_ join your murder squad?” Louis asks, astonished and angry.

His words hang in the air, stinging both of them. Harry feels helpless, for the first time in a long time. How can he do this to Louis? The odds of Louis not completely resenting him are becoming less and less likely.

“You...you are the biggest threat to us now.” Harry says, which is another blow to Louis. _Oh, so there’s a ‘us’ now,_ Louis notes to himself, his crossing his arms in annoyance.

Harry reads Louis’ change in attitude and, for the first time in his life, Harry feels like he’s squirming. He doesn’t want to lose Louis, not like this. And now so many of his firsts are involving Louis and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Helpless, for a start.

Harry hides his fear incredibly well, being used to having to play the part of an emotionless leader. The only emotion that Harry allows to show is sympathy and sadness. _God, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this_.

He pathetically swirls his spoon around his teacup, “And that’s not how we run things around here. Initiation isn’t about drive-by’s… It’s a long process that requires surveillance, training, endurance—”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your initiation bullshit.” Louis squints at Harry, “It’s not about that. It’s about _murdering_ people.” His eyes sting with tears, “I watched a man get shot in the _fucking head_ , Harry.”

Harry looks down, knowing he’s failed Louis, “It’s your choice, Louis.”

The fact that Harry didn’t deny killing people makes Louis’ stomach turn.

He shakes his head, glaring at the mafia leader, “No it’s not. You and your little _minions_ made sure of that.”

Harry feels his heart being squeezed, so disappointed he couldn’t save Louis-- That he didn’t stop this soon enough.

 _Once the first step is taken, there’s no going back_.

“...My hands are tied.” Harry says helplessly.

Louis stares into Harry’s eyes with cynicism, in disbelief. He’s actually going to keep him there. Louis is a prisoner now.

“Well I’m not staying here.” Louis says, looking around at the gigantic apartment, “I’m not staying with you.” He stands, pushing his chair back.

“Louis,” Harry says softly, stopping Louis from moving with a hand on Louis’ hip, “Please just stay the morning. You can sleep here-- clear your head. We can talk about this more once you’ve slept.”

“No.” Louis says sternly, “I’m not sleeping here. Find me another room.”

“Louis…” Harry tries, standing so Louis looks up to him-- but Louis doesn’t budge, even with the sweetly intimate space between them.

“Someone else can show me to.. _my room_.” Louis says and pushes past Harry. He walks back to the elevator and stands in front of it, crossing his arms over his chest to try to find some sort of security in this situation. He’s scared shitless, but hopefully Harry won’t be able to tell. Louis just needs to be away from Harry-- Away from this stupidly well-decorated apartment-- Away from everything.

After a minute, Louis hears Harry sigh in defeat. Footsteps come closer, stopping just behind Louis; so close that Louis can feel the heat emitting off of Harry’s body. It feels so warm and safe-- Harry’s the only familiarity that Louis knows here...but it doesn’t matter now.

Harry leans over him, pressing the button, and the elevator doors open right away.

“Daemon will meet you downstairs,” Harry says reluctantly as Louis steps into the elevator and doesn’t turn around, “He will bring you to your room.”

Louis hears Harry push one of the buttons and just before the doors shut completely, Louis turns around-- just fast enough for Harry to see his teary-eyed, angry face.

The golden doors shut before Harry can react and Louis makes eye contact with a new face. This one is sad and tired looking. His hair is frazzled and his nose is red, with white, tear-stained cheeks. _It’s me._

Louis stares at his reflection and suddenly every single emotion flushes through his body. Sadness, anxiety, terror, bitterness, anger, and any other emotion he’s managed to suppress has broken through the gates and flood his entire being.

Louis lets out an angry scream, punching the golden door, “No!” he shrieks.

The image of that dead man flashes through his mind. He kicks the wall, letting out another scream. Suddenly, his mother flashes in his mind-- her body  in place of the man and he screams again, pulling at his hair.

_whywhywhywhywHYWHYWHYWHYWHY_

_WHY_

The elevator dings and, in a flash, all of the emotions are sucked from his body in a quick swoop-- a terrifying and eerie switch to see: Louis feels everything and then nothing at all. He stands up straight, now resembling a robot more than a human.

The doors open and, just as Harry said, Daemon stands, tall and ominous.. waiting for Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE,, THANK YOU FOR LEAVING COMMENTS AND VOTING,, I LITERALLY WANT TO CRY YOU ARE TOO SWEET


	7. To Live or To Die?

The large, well dressed man offers Louis a wordless nod. 

Louis gives him a tight light lipped smile, tear stains dried on his cheeks. “Lead the way…” Louis gestures down the hallway before muttering, “minion of darkness.”

The events of the night and morning are starting to catch up to him-- making him feel completely drained.The guard eyes Louis, determining he was unlikely to run, given his current state. Daemon leads an exhausted Louis down the hallway, stopping just before the opening to the main room-- where they held Louis, not even two hours ago. As the giant man unlocks the door, Louis looks out into the open space.

In the sunlight, the warehouse has completely changed.

The bloody screens have been removed and all traces of that dead man have been wiped clean. In its place is a long conference table with papers scattered across it. A large whiteboard sits near it, red frantic scribbles cover the surface.

Around the perimeter are various activities, like a living room area where some men are splayed across couches that surround a giant flat screen, a workbench with toolboxes and a variety of equipment hanging on the walls, a bunch of metal shelving units litter the lining of the walls--packed full of boxes and miscellaneous items-- there’s even a kitchenette area where a few scary-looking men linger around a coffee pot.

If they weren’t working for a mafia boss, this would look like a bunch of dudes living in dorms together.

_ But that’s not at all what happens here _ , Louis reminds himself as his eyes drift toward the dark hallway. The three other captors from last night were dragged into that hallway… but Louis was set free..

Well as free as a caged bird-- Fed and groomed with space to flutter.. but never far enough to soar..never truly free again. 

Daemon opens the door to Louis’ new room.

It’s plain and simple, resembling a hotel room. There’s nothing to make it personal or homey, just a temporary place to stay. There’s a window with the blinds drawn, slats of morning light leak into the tan room, a private bathroom blocks the view of the bed, only the foot of the white sheets are in view. A dresser, desk, and decorative chair are scattered about the room, beckoning Louis to make it his new home.

Louis looks to the dark hallway and back to the room.

But this place could never be home to him. Not with men being tortured across the way. Not with a mafia boss living in the penthouse. Not with his minions terrorizing the city. 

No amount of hospitality or kindness that Harry and his men show Louis could ever make this place a home to him. People like Harry are merciless killers, who shoot people in the head without a thought. They take them to dark hallways and keep them there until there’s no trace of human left in their victim.

They are ruthless and manipulative. And Harry’s suave influence won’t work on Louis. All these lovey-feelings that flood Louis’ head every time Harry looks at him are just a distraction. Because in the end, Louis is trapped here. He’s a prisoner.

And if he was going to be a prisoner, he should be treated like one.

Louis crosses his arms and takes a step back, “I want to stay there.” he says, nodding over to the hallway across the open space.

Daemon’s scary guise breaks for a moment when he realizes where Louis was referring to. He had been given specific instructions to be attentive to Louis’ needs and accommodate to anything Louis asked, as long as it was within reason. But putting Louis in one of the Red Rooms would not be something that Daemon could imagine Harry being particularly happy with.

Louis notices Daemons confliction, causing Louis to speak as sternly as he can, “If Harry wants to keep me here, then I’ll stay with the other prisoners.” he spits.

Daemon stands in front of Louis completely stunned. He’s never seen a 5-foot-something, cute young boy be so strong-willed in front of him-- especially with the way that Daemon looks, he could never imagine someone being so stubborn.

Louis gets annoyed by the silence, huffing (feeling sort of like a child) and flicks the hair out of his eyes, “C’mon then!” he encourages, turning to extend his arm out toward the hallway across the commons area, “Show me the jail cell.”

Daemon hesitates again.

“And if  _ he  _ has somethin’ ta say ‘bout it,” Louis says, feeling so exhausted that he no longer has control over his Yorkshire accent, “Tell him ta kiss me arse.”

Daemon huffs out a chuckle, which to other people just looks like a terrifying sigh. He’s starting to really like the little guy. Daemon nods and walks Louis out into the open space.

Louis crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his chin as they walk across the floor. Some of the heads turn in the room as they whisper quietly about the new-comer. There’s even a couple of whistles and low howls of approval, to which Louis lifts his middle finger over his head as a general ‘fuck you’ to all of the viewers. This action gains some cheers from the others who watch the pair disappear into the dark hallway.

_ Animals,  _ Louis thinks to himself and crosses his arms tight around his chest again as they walk deeper into the hallway. The greenish hue of the cages lamps above them give an even more frightening tone to the hallway, in addition to the moaning and banging on the walls coming from the cells.

Daemon slows his pace and Louis is able to peer through the little slate of a window pane on each of the doors--either seeing a distressed face yelling at them as they pass or seeing a body sprawled across some part of the room-- and he’s not sure which is worse.

They stop in front of one door and Daemon unlocks the thick metal door and pulls it open.

Louis takes a timid step into the doorway.

The room is floor-to-ceiling concrete-- chipped and worn down, probably from past victims of Harry’s activities. There’s one lightbulb stuck to the center of the ceiling that emits just enough light to see a thin, metal bed frame screwed to the ground and a flimsy mattress on top of it.

To the left is a giant, square mirror carved into the wall-- one-way-glass is what Louis suspects, like an interrogation room.

As he looks at the terrifying room, Louis realizes that the other room was a much better choice. It was absolutely the exhaustion that allowed Louis to feel that brave. But now, as he stands in the cell, he starts to regret his choice-- almost taking a step back-- but catches himself.

_ No. If this is where Harry’s other prisoners stay, I’ll stay here too. _

He pushes himself farther into the room and turns around to Daemon, who looked skeptically at Louis. He had assumed that, with the pathetic pleads of the other hostages and the creepy appearance of the hallway and cell, that Louis would immediately turn around and insist on going back to the other room.

Instead Louis takes the door handle from Daemon and slams the door shut. Through the small glass of the window on the door, Louis yells, “Oi! And give this ta ‘arry!” And he lifts both of his middle fingers into the air and turns around in a huff.

Daemon cracks a smile to Louis’ fuming back and shakes his head. Ok, he could definitely get used to having Louis around.

Feeling only slightly better from slamming the door, Louis looks around the cell once more and can feel tears well in his eyes. Everything about this situation is frustrating.

He can’t leave. He can’t know what’s going on. He can’t go back to his life. He can’t see Bebe-- or Al.

He can’t do anything.

Tears start to well in Louis’ eyes. He looks over his shoulder, satisfied to see that Daemon has left-- and hoping that he gives Harry the message exactly how Louis had intended.

Louis takes another step, standing in the middle of the room.

A loud bang from another room makes Louis jump. It echoes through the space, rattling the bed frame and Louis’ bones. The screams and pleads of the other prisoners makes Louis heart ache, a tear escaping down his cheek.

He looks over to the one way mirror and stares at his reflection.  _ How many people have been taken to this room? Beaten in this room? Poked and prodded for information that would hurt more people?  _

_ How many times did they have to scrub blood off of the walls for the next resident? Or would they just leave the blood to remind the person of their fate? _

Louis steps closer to the one-way glass.

Have they stood where Louis is, looking at their face, probably black and blue from merciless torture?

_ And who watches from the other side? _

Someone has probably already told Harry that Louis is staying in the Red Rooms-- he’s probably sitting on the other side, watching Louis. And if it’s not Harry, it’s going to be someone else trying to babysit “the biggest threat” to their operation.

Whoever it is, whether it be Harry, his minions, or nobody, Louis flips off the mirror and goes over to the bed. He flops down and faces the wall to find some sort of privacy, bringing his knees to his chest.

The mattress is old and lumpy, most likely filled with cheap stuffing so that it’s easy to wash blood and other bodily fluids out of the fabric.

Louis stares at the wall, his eyelids feel like lead. Despite the discomfort of the mattress and screaming of other inmates, Louis can’t keep his eyes open any longer, they fall shut almost immediately. And in this state, Louis can find some sort of break… for a little while.

* *

Unbeknownst to, the now unconscious, Louis, behind the glass Harry watches intently-- eyebrows drawn together--as Louis’ shoulders slowly rise and fall as he slips into a deeper sleep.

_ Finally, he has some peace _ Harry thinks to himself, rubbing his forehead as he sits back in the chair.

Out of all the possibilities of Louis and Harry meeting, Harry could’ve never thought this was how they were going to end up. While it does pain him to see Louis in this cell, wanting to be treated like a criminal-- maybe this is what Louis needs to see.. That staying with Harry is the best option. If he were to leave and Harry’s enemies found out the importance of Louis, they would shove him into a cell smaller than this one and do much more than just watch him…

Harry gives a firm tug of his hair at the thought of what others could do to Louis. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm down.

_ He’s here. He’s safe. It’s okay. _

He opens them again, trailing back to the small boy on the rickety old cot. He’s still wearing his diner uniform. Harry can remember Louis mentioning how much he hates the button ups and dress pants-- luckily he’s not wearing the pinstriped apron that Louis claims to hate so much (although Harry finds it incredibly adorable).

Harry pulls out his phone and sends an email to some of his men, requesting information on Louis’ apartment location. 

Hopefully Louis won’t last too long in here tomorrow-- between the torture, screaming and banging of the other prisoners-- and request his other room. With a good night's sleep, maybe Louis will gather his thoughts and speak to Harry about his reservations and they can go back to how things were.

However, Harry would soon realize how stubborn a non-sleep-deprived Louis could be. 

After a sleep of 10 hours, Louis cracks his eyes open, turning onto his back. As the cold, damp smell of the cell creeps into his senses, and the dull, white light of the single lightbulb on the ceiling illuminates the room, the memories of the night prior flash in his mind.

Louis turns his head toward the one-way glass and gives a long, hard glare before whipping back around to face the wall. Without windows in the room, it was hard to tell what time it was-- or even the day.

_ Is this what it’s like for the other prisoners here? To be trapped in this time capsule, only visited when it was time to be beaten or interrogated-- or both. _

Louis extends his arm, gently palming the cold concrete wall. He scootches forward, leaning his forehead against the wall as well, finding solace in the cool surface.

_ Options. What are my options? _

_ I stay, or go. It seems like those are the only two options here. _

_...Is it even an option to escape? _

Louis files through plan after plan of how to get out. All of them end up with him being killed or tied up. Louis doesn’t have the physical means to escape. It would be virtually impossible. Between the amount of guards, and Harry’s determination to keep Louis ‘safe’... it can’t be done. So that leaves his other option: to stay.

But if he stays, he lets Harry win. Harry and his murderous, evil empire of drugs, guns, and bullshit.

Suddenly, a knock at the door makes Louis roll away from the wall. He squints, barely able to see the door-- Louis’ contact lenses have run dry from the amount of time he’s left them in. But, from the ‘respect’ of knocking on the door, instead of barging in (like what would happen with any other prisoner here), Louis can tell that it’s Harry. The minion that was watching him behind the glass must’ve informed the Almighty Drug Lord that Louis was awake now.

So, instead of getting up, he just rolls back over to face the wall, glaring at the concrete. After a moment of deliberation, Louis hears the door click and then slowly swing open.

“..Louis?”, Harry calls softly. No response.

“I… I brought you some breakfast.”

Louis rolls his eyes. He bets that no prisoner in this hallway has ever been served breakfast-- especially by Harry himself, unless it was poisoned.

Louis hears Harry let out a breathy chuckle, “I uh… I didn’t know what you would like, so I just went with uh.. good ol’ fashioned pancakes…”

_ I would  _ like _ to go home,  _ Louis thinks to himself, glaring even harder at the wall.

“I’ll just leave this here,” Harry says as he sets down,“And uhm… if you want to talk… I would like that very much.”

Harry has never, in his life, stumbled for words like this. But the situation with Louis is so fragile,, he doesn’t know how to approach. He tries to wait for an answer, but he can feel Louis’ emotions heating up. Harry doesn’t want to cause Louis anymore pain than he was already in, so after another moment, he slowly walks out, leaving the door open-- just in case Louis wanted to come see him.

Louis feels like a kid, anger pouding at his chest.  _ He left the door open. _ Of course Harry left the door open. He thinks Louis will cave and want to speak with him about changing rooms-- about staying with  _ him _ and his  _ mafia _ . But the thing is, if the door is closed when you come into his cell, you close it on the way out. Why is that such a hard concept to understand?

Louis whips himself out of the bed, making direct eye contact with the pancakes, eggs, and sausage sitting on a silver tray. He storms over to the platter and picks it up, immediately hurling it out the door. The dishware clatters and smashes --echoing through the hallway-- and the food that was prepared is now splattered across the door opposite of Louis’. With a bang, Louis slams his own cell door shut and flops back down onto the bed.

_ FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU SO HARD. NEVER IN A MILLION FUCKING YEARS.  _  Louis mentally screams as he rolls back over to face the wall. Over the course of a few hours, Louis’ rage and his situation in general starts to exhaust him. He falls in and out of sleep, which is completely frustrating to Harry, who sits on the other side of the glass. Because Louis is facing the wall, Harry can’t see him-- see what he’s thinking. The anxiety is eating away at him. And despite him requesting his laptop and other working essentials be moved to the surveillance room, Harry can barely focus.

Every twitch, every itch, any movement at all immediately jerks Harry’s attention to the small, scared (and very angry) boy in the cell. Harry wants nothing more than to carry him out of that room and up to his own penthouse, holding him close until Louis is ready to talk.

The whole first day, Louis stays on that bed. It may drive Harry closer to insanity than the boredom that Louis has found when he’s awake.

That night, as Louis stares at the wall, he’s realized that refusing breakfast may not have been the smartest idea in the world. His stomach growls. Louis hasn’t had a meal since they had grabbed him outside of Al’s.

Almost as if on cue, the door opens and closes in a flash. Louis bolts up to see a plate of spaghetti and meatballs sitting perfectly on a silver tray, just as breakfast had been.

Whoever it was that left it, certainly did not want to feel Louis’ wrath. So, Louis glares at the pile of noodles just as his stomach grumbles. Louis  _ hates _ spaghetti, so this was easy for him.

He stood up, dragging the silver platter of food underneath the mirror. Whoever was behind it was going to have a great show.

Louis plucked the meatballs off of the pile of sauce and noodles, knowing he could eat them discreetly, while simultaneously sending a message that his surrender cannot be swayed by food-- no matter how delicious.

Louis chuckles sinisterly as he grabs a handful of spaghetti-- and after a few minutes of genius atristery and hard thinking, Louis smiles at the slimy masterpiece he has created on the one-way glass.

He had managed to write FUCK YOU backwards, with a mixture of noodles and sauce, so his babysitter would be able to read the words every time they checked up on Louis. He flipped off the mirror one last time, just to really top it off-- and then he bent down so the babysitter couldn’t see him shove one of the meatballs into his mouth and take the other two into his hand. He kicked the empty tray back over to the door and flopped down onto the bed, making sure his babysitter can’t see him finish off the meatballs.

Louis felt like Harry would get the message-- he’s not backing down. But, when Louis fell asleep that night, after thinking about several impossible ways to escape, Harry had sent in two of his men to quietly clean the window, leave a fresh pair of clothes for Louis, and a bowl of cereal with a small carton of milk on a silver tray.

As expected, Louis was furious when he saw the gifts that Harry had left. This was turning into a cycle. Harry would leave food and a gift for Louis, Louis would dump the food (secretly eating a bite) somewhere inconvenient for Harry and trash whatever gift it was-- and Harry would have his men try something different the next day. It went like this for 3 more days. Eight trays of food, several outfits destroyed, and four bottles of cleaning spray later, Louis stares hard at the wall--

All of this anger was tiring. He was doing nothing all day-- for four days-- 96 hours--and yet he felt drained.

He had gone over every escape plan he could think of. All end in the same way. He can’t leave. There’s no way Louis would make it out of here in one piece. If he didn’t get stopped by Harry, his men would surely get Louis.

The only option was to stay here, going insane in this cell… Dying in this cell. Louis knew that if he kept this attitude up, one day the food will stop showing up. There will be no one to come clean up his mess-- no one to set out new clothes for him to change into. There will be no one sitting behind that glass, to wait and see if he needs anything, or if he changes his mind.

They will get sick of his attitude. They’ll leave him and he’ll be just another prisoner. He’ll die in this cell.

But his pride is too big to ask Harry to stay. He doesn’t want Harry to win. Not in this game. Harry is playing God with people; in this game, it truly is life or death. Louis can’t out-smart Harry in a game he’s been playing for years.

Then all at once, Louis loses his breath. 

An idea popped into his head that feels so cinematic and stupid, he almost laughs. But as he thinks about it more, it becomes a favorable option. 

Louis knows that Harry cares for him, that much is apparent in the way he’s treated Louis. So, if he can take advantage of those feelings-- have Harry wrapped around his finger, that means that he’d have access to Harry’s entire mafia. He could get all of the information about Harry’s activities-- monetary, illegal, social-- all of it. 

Louis just has to lure Harry in. If Harry falls hard enough, Louis could get enough information to put Harry in jail for life. His empire would be dismantled with its king unable to run it.

So he tricks the mafia boss into loving him, Louis gets Harry’s secrets, and he gives it to his friends in publishing. Harry’s drug and arms empire would fall--

No.

The idea is stupid, and Louis would have to be crazy..

…But it’s so stupid and crazy that…

it just might work.

He could take this anger and turn it into something good. He was going to have to play Harry’s game.  Smile and hug and talk,, let him think that he’s won.

_ Back him into a corner. _

Louis turns over, facing the mirror before slowly sitting up. 

_ Then, when the moment is right… _

_**Check..** _

He stares into the one-way glass, only his own reflection can be relayed.

_ Capture the king through his own faults. _

“I want to see him.” Louis says to the mirror.

 

**_Checkmate._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! I was on vacation for two weeks to visit family, and it was my birthday so I took a little time off :) If you want notifications for when a new chapter is posted, this story is also on my Wattpad. My username is Queenof4ssLouis --ass spelled with a 4 instead of an A lol . You can also bug me to update my stories on instagram,, QueenofAssLouis -- dm me and tell me ur from AO3 :))


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